slow-lines

Bruise [ II ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 10.3k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by pcycho61

The cool air whipping at your skin made a shiver spread along your spine, hands rubbing at your biceps as your teeth chattered behind your pressed together lips. Loud laughter and screams filled the air, the night lit up by warm orange hues of carnival rides and haunted houses. Your feet felt stiff, trapped in a pair of uncomfortable sneakers you regretted wearing, eyes glued to the back of Minseok’s head as he told your friends something apparently hilarious. It was far too cold out to be stuck in a stupid line for a stupid haunted house in a tank top and torn up skinny jeans. You were too annoyed to continue being stuck in front of Chanyeol and Sehun as they flirted with a group of girls behind you, Chanyeol’s cologne wafting to your nose whenever he moved his arms about.

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when you’re waiting in a slow line and the person ahead of you has had enough and decides to leave the line and go to another but then the line moves faster when they leave and you make it to the register before them

Five Seconds (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: When you confessed to Richie, you got the expected response, but that doesn’t mean it hurt any less. Not even a week later he decides to talk to you, not so subtly jealous about you spending time with Ben. Things sort of…escalate from there.

Warnings: Cussing and Kissing. (oh no, not kissing! *parents screaming, children crying, Ohio catches on fire*) This is a request. DON’T HESITATE TO SEND IN REQUESTS. (Don’t send in like 50 tho. I still need sleep.)

Word Count: 1,697


“Can I t-talk to you.”

Richie stops laughing at Stan and, still giggling, turns to you. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You glance over Richie’s shoulder to see Beverly shoot you a thumbs up. “I’ve been, well- It was Beverly’s idea! But for a while now…” You stumbled over words, trying to soften the embarrassing blow of ‘I have a crush on you’.

“I like you!” You blurt, deciding to get it over with. “I l-like you as more than a friend.”

There’s a moment of silence in which you count the seconds that painfully tick by.

One. Richie’s mouth opens and closes, you can see his eyes dart to the other boys. They’re whooping and hollering, pushing him and giggling like idiots.

Two. You can feel the headrush hit you hard, along with waves of nausea.

Three. Teasing smiles stay on the boys’ faces, but Beverly’s melts off. She knows. She knows what’s going to happen.

Four. Richie’s ears turn fire hydrant red as you grow pale and faint. His eyes once again scan the boys, who continue to tease without mercy. You close your eyes, wishing they’d stop. There would be nothing to celebrate.

Five. “I’m s-sorry…”

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Uprising: Retcons and Analyses

It’s my lunch so forgive the fast formatting but here we go:


Retconning:


1. Jack’s reason for enlisting is now confirmed to be the Omnic Crisis.  Which changes a number of things.  In his original backstory, Jack “wanted to return to the family farm after a brief stint in the Army, but was swept up in SEP, where he met Reyes.”  But now that that’s gone, this makes Jack more “worldly” and more “motivated to fight for change” in the world.  “New” Jack is much bigger, much more global than “original” Jack was.  His sights are not set on returning to Indiana - his sights are set on saving humanity.


2. Genji was not in Blackwatch as far as I am aware.  What is interesting is that this proves that not all Blackwatch missions were undertaken alone, since Overwatch would have also been involved in his rescue (when know Angela was on-hand or close by).  Blackwatch and Overwatch also engage in joint training sessions.  We can see that even though Lena is the main focus of the training, someone is monitoring Genji’s systems in the background.  This effectively CONFIRMS that - at the very least - Jack Morrison was aware of SOME of the Blackwatch missions.


This also heavily implies that - coupled with the “complaints by the Japanese government about Blackwatch” - Blackwatch was involved in the fall of the Shimada clan.


3. Liao is either entirely scrapped or has been reworked.  I personally think it’s the former.  They haven’t been mentioned in any comic thus far, and Torb and Rein consider “the old team” to consist of the Strike Team plus Angela.


4. I’m feeling fairly convinced that the promotion angle is getting massively reworked or toned down.  Gabriel’s light banter and sass over Jack’s statues, the lack of voicelines around the promotion, the fact that it is LITERALLY never mentioned anywhere outside of the “original” article makes it fairly clear that - at least on the surface - nobody thinks Gabriel is mad about it.  Gabriel himself acts nonchalant about the differences in their ranks.


5. Lena’s new timeline is VERY SHORT.  Her time as an active agent would have been relegated to the last year of Overwatch’s existence (Present time = 6 years since Fall of Overwatch, Comic takes place “7 years ago”).  This means that propaganda/promotional posters like the one in the Hero animation PROBABLY DON’T EXIST.  Which is like.  Really subtle next level retconning.


Analyses


1. “They’re not extremists, Gabriel - they’re TERRORISTS.” How relevant.  I’m convinced Gabriel and subsequently Reaper are now firmly in the Chaotic Gool-Neutral-Evil alignment.  His whole speech about Omnic Rights is FASCINATING for his character because it shows that he is actually sympathetic or understanding of their behaviors on a different level than Reaper previously implied (“Tin cans, a dime a dozen”).  This is VERY GOOD.  His subtle implication that humanity - specifically the UK - has forgotten the origins of rights and freedoms is MASSIVE for him, and reflecting on that through a “minority being abused and denied rights” (a minority he ACTIVELY FOUGHT AND DEFEATED) is HUGE.  This really pushes the theories of Reaper as a “Chaotic Good-Neutral” agent much further, especially if we consider that he may see Talon less as terrorists and more as “extreme anarchists.”  This really greatly aligns with Sombra’s whole mortality alignment and Los Muertos’ “ideals.”  Gabriel is 100% aware (and self-aware) of the issues.


2. Gabriel almost certainly does not want Blackwatch directly involved in this uprising.  His crew is already in hot water, and he has to think about the safety of his agents and their plausible deniability in the face of a UN investigation.  Gabriel’s lines about McCree “being on vacation” and “nothing you need to know” reads as him trying to defend McCree in the event something goes awry with the higher ups, while also giving Jack and Ana the ability to deny information as well.  This, unfortunately, PUTS A MASSIVE TARGET ON HIM AND HIM ALONE.  Gabriel being blamed or implied to be responsible for the fall of Overwatch by other people (namely higher ups) looks more and more realistic and possible.


3. Jack and Gabriel’s relationship (along with their friendship with Ana) is indicated as being deeper and extremely intimate.  Things to note: Jack now being the only character to call him “Gabe” (which Sombra references), Jack being able to pull information out of Gabriel even after Gabriel and Ana engaged in some sassy banter, Jack referring to him as “Commander Reyes” in his discussion with Lena, Jack using the picture of the three of them to remind himself of “what’s important.”  I’m not gonna say this is confirmation of a full on relationship between them, but they are absolutely close.  This, combined with Reaper’s “I know your every move before you even think it” line from Old Soldiers and Reaper calling him “Jack” even after the fallout, is extremely telling.  This is not an ordinary relationship between “coworkers.”


4. Jack listening patiently and calmly to Lena’s speech, being reminded of himself and his passions for defending and helping others…is very good.  Very good for his character.  A little less revolutionary than Gabriel’s speech about Omnics, but good and grounding nonetheless.  This also helps humanize his whole “you need to slow down/okay dad” lines with Tracer in the game as more cute and familial than before.


5. The new timeline is BONKERS.  HOLY SHIT.  So things have started to break down - there’s investigations and complaints against Blackwatch, and growing criticisms against Overwatch.  Other people have speculated that Gerárd has recently died based on the news headlines, but what this means is that the collapse of Overwatch happened FAST: within at least a year, Lena has her temporal problems, McCree leaves, Genji leaves, Ana “dies,” Gabriel and Jack have their “falling out,” etc.  A YEAR.  That’s ridiculously fast for an organization that’s been around for nearly three decades.  This certainly implies that the conspiracy that brought Overwatch down was FAST and THOROUGH.  Sowing the seeds of discontent quickly and efficiently, almost certainly breaking up the “joint-relationship” between Overwatch and Blackwatch within months.  That’s insane.

6.  My friend Sami pointed out that Jack’s office is simple and small - not ostentatious or large.  He literally has nothing but a desk, a massive monitor, and some shelves in there.


7. Jack being willing to step out of line for “the greater good” makes him complicit in ignoring “orders” or breaking “the law.”  This sets up a great parallel between him and Reaper, and other characters like Lúcio, the Junkers, Mei, McCree, and Winston.  And we know that the “higher ups” spun this “overstepping his bounds” as forcing Overwatch as a policing agency onto the world.  Soldier: 76/Jack not being “respected” for his hard-but-morally-correct decisions lends itself well to his jaded, bitter manner later in life.


8. GOD.  DAMN.  TEAM.  UNIFORMS.  YES.  THANK YOU.

klance wedding headcanons

alright so a bunch of you asked for some klance wedding headcanons in response to the shallura wedding post and ho boy i am here to deliver 

(shoutout to @leg-defender again for idea bouncing with me!)

  • first off, the wedding is Big. because Lance’s family is HUGE and they gotta be involved in e v e r y t h i n g. they’re basically orchestrating the whole shebang along with the rest of the voltron crew. 
    • Lance’s family does a shitton of research on Korean weddings because they want to include traditions from Keith’s culture as well as Lance’s. 
      • An entire twenty-four hour day is spent with the whole team on computers, at libraries, calling old Korean friends and sending Shiro out to be the honorary diplomat. by the end of the day they could probably run their own program on the history channel.
  • Hunk, Lance’s mother, grandmother, and anyone else with even a fingernail of cooking talent are all on the Food Squad together because let’s be honest there is a lot of food to be made. 
    • nobody knows what kind of food Keith likes and they can’t ask Lance because it’s supposed to be a surprise so they have to send Pidge out for reconnaissance
      • Pidge has no idea how to navigate the situation and ends up trying to ask Keith what his favorite restaurant is in hopes of getting somewhere
      • his favorite restaurant is the Pizza Hut down the street
      • Pidge gives up and just tells everyone he likes traditional Korean food (which he does)
  • The “Bachelor Party” is just the whole original voltron crew having a fun night out of the town
    • they go to an arcade
    • Keith beats Lance in just about every game they play
    • minus the first person shooters and dance dance revolution
    • nobody beats Lance at dance dance revolution
    • nobody.
  • Hunk is pretty much Lance’s Maid of Honor, Shiro is Keith’s
    • Almost every single one of Lance’s siblings is a Bridesmaid/Groomsman
    • Keith doesn’t really have a lot of people to be his Groomsmen so Lance’s siblings take the position for his side too
    • They literally fight over who gets to be a Groomsman for Keith they all want to do it so bad
      • it makes Keith cry bc he never thought he’d be part of a big family like this and it just makes him Really Fucking Happy
  • Keith is kind of a fashion disaster and doesn’t know how to pick out what to wear so Lance’s five sisters immediately adopt him.
    • they spend the whole day shopping together
    • Lance has never seen someone get along with all of his sisters so well in his entire life
      • it’s actually a little freaky how well
      • Lance is Afraid
  • For the wedding Keith has his nails painted blue and Lance has his painted red
    • Lance’s little cousins do it for them so it’s kind of sloppy but it’s insanely fucking cute
  • Allura and Lance’s mom are the Decorating Dream Team
    • the whole venue looks like it just came off of a goddamn pintest board 
    • in the best way possible
    • Allura has added some more questionable decorations but what can you do
    • “Are those… goldfish bowls?” “Yes.” “Ok.”
  • Coran along with Lance’s like 98 year old great-grandmother are the ones who marry them
    • yes both of them
    • they both demanded to have the position so they had to share it
    • at first they didn’t get along so well but now they are best buddies for some odd reason
    • no one knows why they get along but they do so nobody’s complaining 
  • Lance starts bawling like three words into his vows
    • he can’t help it Ok it’s a Very Emotional Moment
    • the whole thing is rly sweet though because Keith just smiles Super Fucking Wide and wipes away his tears. Everyone’s heart in a 300 mile radius melts. If you weren’t crying before you sure as hell are now.
  • They kiss for Way Too Long during the ceremony. Pidge has to not-so-subtly kick Lance in the ankle and remind them not to suffocate eachother.
    • Lance is so getting Pidge later for that.
    • he never actually gets Pidge later for that.
  • The reception is really just One Huge Fun Dance Party 
    • basically everyone is drunk but in the best way possible
    • there is karaoke 
      • Lance forces Keith to come on stage with him and sing
      • except Lance chooses a song in Spanish and Keith has n o i d e a what he’s doing
      • the only part of the song Keith gets is this really slow line when he looks Lance right in the eyes and says “Besame, te amo”
      • it’s a one-hit-KO 
      • Lance is #gone
      • he forgets how to speak spanish altogether and just starts sputtering random words that translate to things like “my entire bathtub is green” and the spanish rendition of the happy birthday song
  • They all unanimously decide to eat the cake before dinner.
    • They wish they had an excuse for breaking out the cake before dinner but they don’t. The just really want to see the cake Hunk has been bragging about making for weeks.
    • the cake is so beautiful Lance starts crying again
    • honestly nobody can really blame him is is one hell of a cake
  • Shiro’s toast speech is like 10 minutes of roasting Keith and Lance for all the dumb shit they’ve done over the years
    • “I remember when you two had a contest to see who could eat more cheese logs–”
    • “Or the time when you both hung upside down so long you passed out and we had to take you to the ER—”
    • “And there was The Poison Ivy Incident last March–”
    • “Oh don’t even get me started on the Slip ‘N Slide race—”
      • “Shiro… Please…. Let Us Live………”
  • alas 20 minutes into the actual dinner a Huge food fight breaks out
    • It. Is. Chaos.
    • Everybody participates. Nobody is spared. 
    • Food is e v e r y w h e r e but honestly who cares they’re having a blast.
    • There is a running debate to this day over how it started
      • “Keith started it! With the potatoes!”
      • “I did not, it was all Lance and his stupid carrots!”
      • “Allura is the one who launched the peas,”
      • “Excuse me?! Shiro dumped the fruit punch”
      • “Only after Hunk threw the rice cakes!”
      • “Oh no don’t you drag me in to this–”
  • In conclusion, it’s absolute Chaos but it’s the most fun, exciting, Lance-and-Keith-like wedding anybody’s been to in like a million years and nobody leaves without a smile on their face and one hell of a story to tell.

Usually, I lie. At a party, someone asks the question. It’s someone who hasn’t smelled the rancid decay of week-dead flesh or heard the rattle of fluid flooding lungs. I shake the ice in my glass, smile, and lie. When they say, “I bet you always get that question,” I roll my eyes and agree.

There are plenty of in-between stories to delve into; icky, miraculous ones and reams of the hilarious and stupid. I did, after all, become a paramedic knowing it would stack my inner shelves with a library of human tragicomedy. I am a writer, and we are nothing if not tourists gawking at our own and other people’s misery. No?

The dead don’t bother me. Even the near-dead, I’ve made my peace with. When we meet, there’s a very simple arrangement: Either they’re provably past their expiration date and I go about my business, RIP, or they’re not and I stay. A convenient set of criteria delineates the provable part: if they have begun to decay; if rigor mortis has set in; if the sedentary blood has begun to pool at their lowest point, discoloring the skin like a slowly gathering bruise. The vaguest criterion is called obvious death, and we use it in those bizarre special occasions that people are often sniffing for when they ask questions at parties: decapitations, dismemberments, incinera- tions, brains splattered across the sidewalk. Obvious death.

One of my first obvious deaths was a portly Mexican man who had been bicycling along the highway that links Brooklyn to Queens. He’d been hit by three cars and a dump truck, which was the only one that stopped. The man wasn’t torn apart or flattened, but his body had twisted into a pretzel; arms wrapped around legs. Somewhere in there was a shoulder. Obvious death. His bike lay a few feet away, gnarled like its owner. Packs and packs of Mexican cigarettes scattered across the highway. It was three a.m. and a light rain sprinkled the dead man, the bicycle, the cigarette packs, and me, made us all glow in the sparkle of police flares. I was brand new; cars kept rushing past, slowing down, rushing past.

Obvious death. Which means there’s nothing we can do, which means I keep moving with my day, with my life, with whatever I’ve been pondering until this once-alive-now-inanimate object fell into my path.If I can’t check off any of the boxes—if I can’t prove the person’s dead—I get to work and the resuscitation flowchart erupts into a tree of brand-new and complex options. Start CPR, intubate, find a vein, put an IV in it. If there’s no vein and you’ve tried twice, drill an even bigger needle into the flat part of the bone just below the knee. Twist till you feel a pop, attach the IV line. If the heart is jiggling, shock it; if it’s flatlined, fill it with drugs. If the family lingers, escort them out; if they look too hopeful, ease them toward despair. If time slips past and the dead stay dead, call it. Signs of life? Scoop ’em up and go.

You see? Simple.

Except then one day you find one that has a quiet smile on her face, her arms laying softly at her sides, her body relaxed. She is ancient, a crinkled flower, and was dying for weeks, years. The fam- ily cries foul: She had wanted to go in peace. A doctor, a social worker, a nurse—at some point all opted not to bother having that difficult conversation, perhaps because the family is Dominican and the Spanish translator wasn’t easily reachable and anyway, someone else would have it, surely, but no one did. And now she’s laid herself down, made all her quiet preparations and slipped gently away. Without that single piece of paper though, none of the lamentations matter, the peaceful smile doesn’t matter. You set to work, the tree of options fans out, your blade sweeps her tongue aside and you battle in an endotracheal tube; needles find their mark. Bumps emerge on the flat line, a slow march of tiny hills that resolve into tighter scribbles. Her pulse bounds against your fingers; she is alive.

But not awake, perhaps never to be again. You have brought not life but living death, and fuck what I’ve seen, because that, my friends at the party, my random interlocutor who doesn’t know the reek of decay, that is surely one of the craziest things I have ever done.

But that’s not what I say. I lie.

Which is odd because I did, after all, become a medic to fill the library stacks, yes? An endless collection of human frailty vignettes: disasters and the expanding ripple of trauma. No, that’s not quite true. There was something else, I’m sure of it.

And anyway, here at this party, surrounded by eager listeners with drinks in hand, mouths slightly open, ready to laugh or gasp, I, the storyteller, pause. In that pause, read my discomfort.

On the job, we literally laugh in the face of death. In our crass humor and easy flow between tragedy and lunch break, outsiders see callousness: We have built walls, ceased to feel. As one who laughs, I assure you that this is not the case. When you greet death on the daily, it shows you new sides of itself, it brings you into the fold. Gradually, or maybe quickly, depending on who you are, you make friends with it. It’s a wary kind of friendship at first, with the kind of stilted conversation you might have with a man who picked you up hitch- hiking and turns out to have a pet boa constrictor around his neck. Death smiles because death always wins, so you can relax. When you know you won’t win, it lets you focus on doing everything you can to try to win anyway, and really, that’s all there is: The Effort.

The Effort cleanses. It wards off the gathering demons of doubt. When people wonder how we go home and sleep easy after bearing witness to so much pain, so much death, the answer is that we’re not bearing witness. We’re working. Not in the paycheck sense, but in the sense of The Effort. When it’s real, not one of the endless parade of chronic runny noses and vague hip discomforts, but a true, soon- to-be-dead emergency? Everything falls away. There is the patient, the family, the door. Out the door is the ambulance and then farther down the road, the hospital. That’s it. That’s all there is.

Awkward text messages from exes, career uncertainties, generalized aches and pains: They all disintegrate beneath the hugeness that is someone else’s life in your hands. The guy’s heart is failing; fluid backs up in those feebly pumping chambers, erupts into his lungs, climbs higher and higher, and now all you hear is the raspy clatter every time he breathes. Is his blood pressure too high or too low? You wrap the cuff on him as your partner finds an IV. The monitor goes on. A thousand possibilities open up before you: He might start getting better, he might code right there, the ambulance might stall, the medicine might not work, the elevator could never come. You cast off the ones you can’t do anything about, see about another IV because the one your partner got already blew. You’re sweating when you step back and realize nothing you’ve done has helped, and then everything becomes even simpler, because all you can do is take him to the hospital as fast as you can move without totaling the rig.

He doesn’t make it. You sweated and struggled and calculated and he doesn’t make it, and dammit if that ain’t the way shit goes, but also, you’re hungry. And you’re alive, and you’ve wracked your body and mind for the past hour trying to make this guy live. Death won, but death always wins, the ultimate spoiler alert. You can only be that humbled so many times and then you know: Death always wins. It’s a warm Thursday evening and grayish orange streaks the horizon. There’s a pizza place around the corner; their slices are just the right amount of doughy. You check inside yourself to see if anything’s shattered and it’s not, it’s not. You are alive. You have not shattered.

You have not shattered because of The Effort. The Effort cleanses because you have become a part of the story, you are not passive, the very opposite of passive, in fact. Having been humbled, you feel amazing. Every moment is precise and the sky ripples with delight as you head off to the pizza place, having hurled headlong into the game and given every inch of yourself, if only for a moment, to a losing struggle.

It’s not adrenaline, although they’ll say that it is, again and again. It is the grim, heartbroken joy of having taken part. It is the difference between shaking your head at the nightly news and taking to the streets. It’s when you finally tell her how you really feel, the moment you craft all your useless repetitive thoughts into a prayer.

At the party, as they look on expectantly, I draft one of the lesser moments of horror as a stand-in. The evisceration, that will do. That single strand of intestine just sitting on the man’s belly like a lost worm. He was dying too, but he lived. It was a good story, a terrible night.

I was new and I didn’t know if I’d done anything right. He lived, but only by a hair. I magnified each tiny decision to see if I’d erred and came up empty. There was no way to know. Eventually I stopped taking jobs home with me. I released the ghosts of what I’d done or hadn’t done, let The Effort do what it does and cleanse me in the very moment of crisis. And then one night I met a tiny three-year old girl in overalls, all smiles and high-fives and curly hair. We were there because a neighbor had called it in as a burn, but the burns were old. Called out on his abuse, the father had fled the scene. The emergency, which had been going on for years, had ended and only just begun.

The story unraveled as we drove to the hospital; I heard it from the front seat. The mother knew all along, explained it in jittery, sobbing replies as the police filled out their forms. It wasn’t just the burns; the abuse was sexual too. There’d been other hospital visits, which means that people who should’ve seen it didn’t, or didn’t bother setting the gears in motion to stop it. I parked, gave the kid another high five, watched her walk into the ER holding a cop’s hand.

Then we had our own forms to fill out. Bureaucracy’s response to unspeakable tragedy is more paperwork. Squeeze the horror into easy-to-fathom boxes, cull the rising tide of rage inside and check and recheck the data, complete the forms, sign, date, stamp, insert into a metal box and then begin the difficult task of forgetting.

The job followed me down Gun Hill Road; it laughed when I pretended I was okay. I stopped on a corner and felt it rise in me like it was my own heart failing this time, backing fluids into my lungs, breaking my breath. I texted a friend, walked another block. A sob came out of somewhere, just one. It was summer. The breeze felt nice and nice felt shitty.

My phone buzzed. Do you want to talk about it?

I did. I wanted to talk about it and more than that I wanted to never have seen it and even more than that I wanted to have done something about it and most of all, I wanted it never to have hap- pened, never to happen again. The body remembers. We carry each trauma and ecstasy with us and they mark our stride and posture, contort our rhythm until we release them into the summer night over Gun Hill Road. I knew it wasn’t time to release just yet; you can’t force these things. I tapped the word no into my phone and got on the train.

I don’t tell that one either. Stories with trigger warnings don’t go over well at parties. But when the question is asked, the little girl’s smile and her small, bruised arms appear in my mind.

The worst tragedies don’t usually get 911 calls, because they are patient, unravel over centuries. While we obsess over the hyperviolent mayhem, they seep into our subconscious, poison our sense of self, upend communities, and gnaw away at family trees with intergenerational trauma.I didn’t pick up my pen just to bear witness. None of us did. And I didn’t become a medic to get a front-row seat to other people’s tragedies. I did it because I knew the world was bleeding and so was I, and somewhere inside I knew the only way to stop my own bleeding was to learn how to stop someone else’s. Another call crackles over the radio, we pick up the mic and push the button and drive off. Death always wins, but there is power in our tiniest moments, humanity in shedding petty concerns to make room for compassion. We witness, take part, heal. The work of healing in turn heals us and we begin again, laughing mournfully, and put pen to paper.

Daniel José Older

anonymous asked:

dai companions + advisors reactions to finding a collection of really good drawings the inquisitor has done of the companions and their adventures.

Absolutely anon!  Thank you for requesting!

GIF Source


Cassandra: She really didn’t mean to look, she would just walk by and not invade the Inquisitor’s privacy.  But first just one quick peek at it, just a quick glance across the dark lines.  However, that quick glance turned into a longer study, as her eyes studied their companions and adventures in drawing form.  She left the drawings without being caught, and did not speak of it to the Inquisitor.  But she would subtly encourage the Inquisitor to draw more.

Varric: When he comes across some of the Inquisitor’s drawings, he was very happy that it answered his question about what the Inquisitor was keeping such a big secret from them all.  Next time him and the Inquisitor spoke he mentioned it to them, and if the Inquisitor was embarrassed he would reassure them and say he thought they were talented.  He encourages the Inquisitor to draw more often, and sometimes they would sit together and Varric would write while the Inquisitor drew.

Solas: He wouldn’t deny that he was curious about what the Inquisitor had been keeping so close to them at camp.  When he finds their drawings however, he is impressed with their skill.  He approaches the Inquisitor about it, and he asks them questions about how long they had been drawing, and if they were self taught.  He may even possibly pass on his artistic teachings to them, and what techniques he had learned in his travels.

Vivienne: When she comes across the Inquisitor’s drawings she makes sure to pay the Inquisitor a compliment next time she see’s them, but reprimands them for keeping it personal.  Talent like the Inquisitor’s should be shared and enjoyed by others.  She, quietly in the background of her other duties, inquires about the possibility that the Inquisitor could have an art showing in a small gallery in Orlais.

Blackwall: He accidentally comes across the Inquisitor’s drawings one day, and reprimands himself for not just walking straight past and not touching them.  But he does stop and look through them.  He marvels at the skill and detail of the drawings, and how they seem to just come to life.  He silently observes them, but never mentions it to the Inquisitor.  If they ever wanted him to know about their hobby, they would tell him themselves.

Sera: She thinks that the Inquisitor is so cool for being able to draw something this good.  She will pester the Inquisitor for them to show her more of their drawings, and she will keep pestering them until they draw more.  She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she finds it very calming to watch the Inquisitor draw.

Dorian: Another interesting tid bit about the Inquisitor that he will file away.  He admires their work, but his ego inflates even more once he finds drawings of himself along with the other companions.  He will make jokes about getting his good side, but will compliment and support the Inquisitor with their hobby.  In all honesty, he would be flattered that the Inquisitor chose to draw him.

Iron Bull: When he comes across the Inquisitor’s drawings, he can’t help but take a look.  There was so much skill and care placed into each line of the drawing, that it told him a little more about the Inquisitor.  He never mentioned that he saw their drawings, but he would now know what the Inquisitor was doing when they stopped to make camp.

Cole: “Slow movements, lines that appear on a page.  Twisting and turning to form a shape.”  When the Inquisitor is drawing it makes them peaceful and happy, and Cole is happy because of it.  He also enjoys the fact that the Inquisitor considered him friend enough to include him in their drawings.

Leliana: She is quite flattered that she features in the Inquisitor’s drawings, but will say nothing about it.  However, she may go out of her way slightly to walk by where she first found the drawings to see if there are any new additions.  If the Inquisitor wants to go any further with their art, Leliana may slightly help it along with her influence and contacts.

Josephine: It is not in her nature to look through other people’s things, but her curiosity got the better of her and she took a quick look.  She was in awe at the skill of the drawings, and a heartfelt smile and a small blush spreads across her face when she finds herself amongst the art.  She also would not say anything to the Inquisitor unless they did, but she would look out for more drawings when she could.

Cullen: He would constantly be telling himself that he shouldn’t be looking, but before he knew it his eyes were glued to the drawings.  He was impressed with the skill, and a little red bloomed on his face once he found himself in some of the drawings.  He made sure to quickly return the drawings where he found them, and never spoke of it to the Inquisitor.

- Elvhen Glory

Hye smua …..sory la ainull x lyan gn x bls msj sbuk lg pn line slow…ainul x smpurna utk smua..miss you umuahh….sory tau sory free hair nti ainul selfie brtdung plak

EXO STANS — WHAT THEY SEARCH (OT12)

baekhyun stans:

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yixing stans:

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sehun stans:

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tao stans:

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  • tao and sehun moments try not to cry compilation 

minseok stans:

  • get a six pack in ten minutes or less 
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  • how to order steamed buns at a chinese restaurant properly in five steps or less
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  • every single exo mv sped up but whenever minseok gets a line it slows down dramatically
  • he’s like a wife to me
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Originally posted by lovershub

KAI PARKER X READER (SMUT!)

Sunrise

Request: waking up in bed - morning kai and turns heated

She let out a soft groan, blinking groggily through her eyelashes and pushing her messy locks from her eyes. She lay surrounded by plush white sheets and feather pillows, the noise of early morning birds chirping drifting through her open window. With a seconds confusion, she turned, remembering that she’d closed her window before bed last night. Her violet curtains had been pushed aside, window hanging loose, a smug boy blocking her view of the outside world.

“Good morning, princess,” he smiled, sliding his fingers gently across her cheek. His brown locks were smoothed perfectly atop his head, those heart stoppingly beautiful blue eyes were locked to her own, and seeing her instantly sent a smile to his lips. He was stretched out atop the blankets, fully clothed in a black pullover and tattered jeans.

“Kai!” she said with surprise, quickly grabbing at the sheets and going to pull them over her exposed flesh, as she’d passed out wearing only her undergarments.

“Don’t,” he stopped her, locking his fingers gently through her own and peeling them away from the sheets.

“Kai,” she flushed with embarrassment. “I-don’t,” she stumbled, completely self conscious of her body.

He silenced her with his lips, molding them gently against her own, moving his hands gently around her hips, his cold rings sending shivers down her spine.

“You are by far the most beautiful girl I’ve had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon,” he sighed, pulling away and pressing his pretty nose against her own, “it’s about time you see that.”

Her cheeks burned red, bashful smile tickling her lips but unable to find the right words to respond with. He didn’t mean it as a way to flirt, he just genuinely enjoyed every inch of her body, and made sure to keep his eyes only on her face all the while.

“Why are you here?” she asked after a brief silence.

“I couldn’t sleep, but, seeing you helps me relax,” he admitted. “Also, I was hoping we could watch the sunrise together,” he signalled at the orange flares coming from outside.

“I would love to,” she smiled happily at Kai, to which he beamed and rolled to his side so he could face the window. From behind the rich green foliage in the driveway, they were able to make out the ember colors that lifted into the grey sky, like a giant golden red suspending orb being held by an invisible string. The girl pushed herself up a little so she could see over Kai, snuggling into his backside while she was at it. Her arm came around his body as she meshed her own into his shape, instantly feeling Kai go stiff under her touch.

“You okay?” she asked, sensing his shift.

“Of course,” he responded quietly.

“Good,” she breathed into him, watching the sky melt into a soft pastel blue, her hand absentmindedly starting to draw little patterns over the heretic’s flesh.

His breath hitched in his throat, but he ignored it and tried with all his might to ignore the feeling of her skin against his own, and the smell of soft sugar and honey that wafted off her body, the one he knew by now came from her favorite body foam. What was infuriating was that she didn’t even know what she was doing to him without even meaning to.

The girl pressed her face gently against the back of Kai’s head, her full lips and soft breath skimming over his skin and heartbeat steadily thrumming into his back. Her eyes were focused on the color palette in the sky, but Kai’s weren’t, his vision going blurry as he struggled to focus, causing him to release an involuntary growl of disscontempt. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern, peeling her eyes from the sky.

“I can’t-” he said through a raspy breath, his eyes closing, “focus.”

“Why?” she asked, not aware of her control over him.

“I can’t,” he tried again, “when your hands are on me, and i’m drowning in your scent, and y-your heartbeat-” he tried to explain through soft stammers.

“Oh?!” she said, rolling gently aside, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean,” he turned to face her now, “it’s nice.”

His blue eyes skipped all over her face, never sure where to look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she laughed nervously, her heart starting to race.

Kai’s eyes fluttered closed, his chest rising heavily as he bit at his tongue to restrain himself from thinking of all the things he wanted to do, from feeling-

Suddenly his breath was lost as he felt a leg stretching over his side and bringing down weight to sit gently on his front, as well as two hands trailing softly over the fabric of his shirt. His eyes blinked open at the girl, who sat innocently atop Kai’s body, straddling him as if it was no big deal. She looked shy as ever, her hands not knowing which part of him to touch, her chest rattling softly as she breathed unsurely. Her eyes drifted up to Kai’s, waiting for him to say something, but when she realized he couldn’t, her fingers just nervously toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“May I?” she gulped, tugging at his tee.

He nodded slowly, still shocked as she pulled his shirt right over his head and stared in awe at his rippled front. Her hands trailed over Kai’s foreign skin, fingertips sending electricity through his body as she simply felt every inch of him. Then, without a glance up at him, she dipped her mouth into his front and began to explore it, letting her lips drop kisses, or tongue draw circles against him. Kai’s eyes drank of the sight of her, the feeling causing him to release a soft noise of contempt.

“(Y/N),” he managed at last.

“Yeah?” she said, lifting her head and diverting her attention back to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, already hating how it felt when her mouth wasn’t on his flesh.

“I don’t know,” she flushed, “I just, really want to…” she trailed off.

“Want to what?” he murmured, lifting himself up so he could bring his face closer to hers.

“I want…” she breathed, staring at the heretic’s lips, her heart going into overdrive. His eyes bore into hers, challenging her to close the gap between their mouths, so she did. Her face went slamming into his own, noses pressing together as her lips found his, and her hands went sliding into his soft brown hair. She rocked herself gently into Kai’s body, and he went back against the pillows, allowing her to assert more dominance as she pressed her mouth into his with more force, tongue sneaking in between his lips before he was given the opportunity to breathe. She was suddenly aware of the knot forming within her, Kai’s soft growl of hunger against her lips enough to drive her crazy. She removed herself from his lips and began trailing her tongue down a slow line across his chest, Kai’s hands against her hips as she moved down on him. She reached his boxerline, his sharp curves creating a V shape to where she wanted to go next, but before she could, she was flipped to her back, Kai assuming a position over her body. His hands came to her breasts, only unclasping her bra when she gave him a nod, and he felt himself ache from the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to her when he saw her lips droop slightly with worry.

This made her smile a little, and he smiled right back before delving into her chest. His mouth attached around her right nipple, tongue drawing circles, hands coming to massage her gently. He dropped a kiss in the valley between her breasts before switching sides, the girls fingers sliding into his hair, mouth dropping open as she released a noise that made Kai go insane. His front harshly pressed to hers, she felt as his growing bulge pressed hard into her, and she fumbled through the pleasure for the zipper, her fingers clawing at his jeans with impatience. Kai drew his lips back to hers, pressing gently into her mouth and releasing a soft laugh into her lips, pulling away to look her over with a chuckle.

“Kai,” she begged, trailing her fingernail across the hem of his jeans, fingers aching with the need to explore him.

His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he let out another laugh, loving the way she went crazy beneath him, her urgency for him.

She pouted up at him, lower lip jutting out as she glared daggers at his smug little smirk, “you’re enjoying this?”

“Sure am,” he smiled.

She pursed her lips, eyes glued to his as she slowly removed her underwear, now laying fully exposed under the heretic, who’s eyes instantly flickered down, breath getting caught in his throat from the sight.

“What about now?” she challenged.

His nostrils flared, eyebrow raised with defeat, “got me.”

He tossed aside his pants, not even letting her get a good look before diving down into her heat, his hands forcing her thighs outwards as he bent into her, mouth attaching to where she needed him most. Her head instantly fell out, a profanity escaping her lips as Kai dipped his tongue cautiously inside her, one of his hands coming up to massage her clitoris. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he moaned, nuzzling his face deeper down, tongue flittering across her entrance before fully extending inside of her, his hand rubbing little circles, the knot in her stomach tightening. Not enough for him, he scooted further up her body, positioning himself at her entrance, blue eyes filled with lust as they met with hers, eyes to her face as he pushed himself gently inside of her. Her eyes rolled back, that noise he loved emanating from her throat, her hair a perfect halo around her pretty little face, and just that was enough to make him almost lose it. Kai placed a hand upon either side of her hips before slowly rocking his length into her. His length stretched her open, but the look of pain she wore only lasted a second before dissolving into pleasure, her walls tightening comfortably around him. He began a slow rhythm as he pulled back and dipped forward, unable to keep his eyes open as he was engulfed by that feeling. Their breathing coming more ragged, bodies covered in a layer of sweat, he began to quicken his pace, his hips coming knocking into her own every time he slammed himself into her. His rings left deep imprints in her skin as he forced her down, her own hands coming to his back and leaving a trail of red fingernail marks.

“Mal-achai,” she said, choking on her own words, nails sinking into his flesh.

He practically melted at the sight of her, no mercy as he felt himself slipping, his thrusts starting to get more sloppy now. The girl’s body began to convulse beneath him, the knot unwinding in her stomach as she let out a cry, Kai giving a final push before groaning out as he emptied himself inside of her. Filled to the brim and unable to move, she quietly shook beneath Kai Parker, giving herself time to recover. Kai removed himself and bent down to clean her up gently with his tongue, the sensitivity causing her to twitch lightly.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her fragile form into his embrace, her face nuzzled into his chest as she slowly regained composure. He brought his fingers trailing gently through her messy tangles, dimples alighting his cheeks when she blinked those eyes up at him.

“So, that sunrise was pretty great, huh?” he joked.

She giggled into his skin, unable to control her laughter, “Kai!”

He smiled down at her, happy to hear that laugh.

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling her hair gently behind her ear.

“What?” she whispered up at him.

“Nothing,” he sighed, planting a kiss briefly to her forehead, “I’m just at a loss of words for how in love with you I am.”

Yours.

Dean x reader

Warnings: SMUT. As always. Oral sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, swearing, alcohol, a tiny bit of angst with a dash of fluff.

Side note: I’m sorry this took so long, I literally could not get passed the writers block. Hopefully you all enjoy!

————————————————

You watched as Dean swayed side to side with the beautiful waitress he’d been flirting with all night. She tried ignoring his attempts at first, like the other ones always did, but those green eyes always got the best of them. You knew it wasn’t long before they headed out, back to Dean’s room and did things you’d only ever dreamed of.

Pining over the brooding, stubborn, broken hunter was never fun. Especially on nights like these. But you’d gotten so used to it, it barely hurt anymore.

Barely.

You threw back your last shot and headed out, not wanting to see the way Dean cupped the waitresses ass as they stumbled out.

Walking out into the cool air, you realized just how much you’d drank. The motel was only across the road but it seemed miles away. You slowly made your way across, looking both ways like a small child without an adult. As you made your way up to the door, you realized Dean would be bringing the waitress back here for the night. You scolded yourself for not getting a separate room.

Miserable and drunk, you finally managed to get the door open, stumbling a bit before stabilizing yourself and turning on the light. You glanced at both beds, groaning at the lack of space between them. This was going to be a long night.

You shut the light and fell onto your bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable but you’d slept on worse.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later when the sound of keys fumbling and the door opening woke you up. There was only one set of footsteps so you figured Dean had struck out with the waitress. Relief washed over you. Atleast you’d actually get some sleep tonight.

“You awake?”

You turned over, expecting to see Dean disheveled and confused from the alcohol, but to your surprise he seemed perfectly sober. Standing straight with a strangely serene look on his face.

“What’s up? Waitress wasn’t buying what you were selling?” You chuckled, hoping to break the odd tension that was suddenly between you two.

“I told her I had to wake up early. Gave her a fake number… I’m sure she’ll get over me in a little while.” He smirked.

“You… let her go?…. Are you ok?” You didn’t hide the concern in your voice. It wasn’t like Dean to turn away a perspective one night stand.

“I’m good, sweet heart. She was nice… I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

He was still standing, right at the end of his bed facing you straight on. His eyes were hooded, looking at you with an intensity that burned into your core. You sat up, realizing there was something more he wasn’t telling you.

“Dean, what’s going on?… is there something you wanted to talk about?” Your heart was starting to beat out of your chest. This was serious.

“How come you left?”

Ok… Not what you were expecting.

“Left? Where? The bar? I was just getting tired. Long day of driving can really tucker an old girl out.” Your nerves were starting to show, making stupid jokes to lighten the mood.

“Y/n….”, Dean’s voice dangerously low, eyes never leaving yours. “Why?”

You looked down, the uneven blanket on his bed catching your eye. You fidgeted with your fingers, not sure how to voice your reason.

Dean moved suddenly, taking 3 long steps forward and kneeling down in front of you so that he was eye level. Gently placing his finger under your chin, he lifted your face until there was nowhere to look but those bright green eyes.

Starting slow, in a barely audible whisper, you confessed…

“I can’t watch you with all those women. You’re not mine… but it still hurts.”

“Why does it hurt?” His expression guarded, unchanging.

“We’ve known eachother for what? 4 years now? We spend everyday together. We hunt together. You’re my best friend…. after a while… I started hoping…” your voice faded off, not sure how to finish.

Were you in love with Dean? Absolutely. Did he love you? Probably, but not the way you wanted. How can you confess your love to someone who could never love you back?

Tears clouded your vision, threatening to spill over and make you look even more pathetic. You tried to look anywhere but Dean, but his proximity was making it damn near impossible.

“Y/n… do you think I went home with those girls because I didn’t want you?”

His gentle tone pulled you from your embarrassment. Hesitantly, you brought your gaze back to his, seeing the kind smile and slight amusement in his eyes.

“I went with them because I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” He looked away, clearing his throat. “I still don’t think I am. But seeing you walking out of the bar, seeing the way you looked at me and that waitress… I knew I had to say something.”

You were both silent for what felt like forever, searching each others eyes.

Finally the tension was too much.

“So what are you saying?”

It was amazing what one question could unleash.

Dean’s lips were on yours in a second. The passion was unbelievable, but there was no rush. You melded together in a slow heat, his tongue gently massaging yours. His hands wrapped around your waste as he pushed against you, laying you both down on the bed. You stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the feel of his lips, the soft moans that escaped him, and the way his hands ran up and down your side, sending shivers through you.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head. He lifted his arms to help you, and then brought them back to your side to continue they’re smooth back and forth motion. Your hands explored his chest and arms, marveling at the muscles underneath. Working your way down to his belt, you felt him tense under your touch.

Breaking the kiss, you gestured to his jeans as you began removing your shirt. Throwing it to the side, you heard Dean’s zipper come down. You looked over his beautiful 6 foot frame and your heart fluttered. This gorgeous being was almost naked, very obviously hard and waiting for you. You yanked down your jeans and removed your bra so you were both just in your underwear.

“You look amazing…”

Blushing at his words, you reached a hand out to him. He grabbed it instantly and you pulled him back down on top of you. Continuing your lazy kisses, you rolled over so that you were straddling Dean. You sat up and looked down at his boxers. Reaching under the hem, you pulled his cock out, stroking it gently and watched as Dean’s eyes shut, giving himself over to you.

Moving your panties to the side, you placed your wet pussy right over his dick and let him slide through your folds. He grazed your clit every time.

“I wanna taste you.” He practically begged.

Smiling, you scooted yourself up until your pussy was right over his face. He placed both hands on the underside of your thighs, flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow, line from your entrance up to your clit. You bit your lip to cover the moans that were threatening to escape.

“Taste so good, sweet heart..” he brought his tongue through your folds again, going around your clit but never actually touching it. His movements were slow, but deliberate. He circled your clit one way and then another, but never repeating the same pattern. You could feel yourself getting hot, a spring coiling inside that you knew was going to explode if he continued his pace.

Without warning, he flipped you on to your back, legs in the air and pinned you to the bed. There was no more amusement in his face. His eyes were focused, his jaw was tight and every muscle in his body was ready to pounce.

This wasn’t Dean. This was the Hunter.

He placed his mouth around your clit, continuing his circles but this time at a pace that would surely kill you. You couldn’t stop the moans this time.

He had your entire lower body pinned to the bed so you couldn’t move, making the pleasure so much more intense. You grabbed the sheets and practically screamed his name over and over.

“Dean! Oh fuck Dean, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

Dean started to suck on your clit and that was the end. Your orgasm exploded. Your back arched off the bed and your cries were heard throughout the motel. It came in waves, almost never ending.

When it did finally subside, you laid back in the bed, trying to concentrate on your breathing. Dean stood up, gently massaging your thighs.

“That was beautiful, y/n. I could watch you cum like that forever.”

“It definitely felt like it was going to last forever.” You laughed.

Dean laid over top of you, gently kissing you, and running his cock through your sensitive folds once, twice, and one last time before gently pushing into your entrance. You moaned at the feeling, loving the pain of the stretch and the way it faded into a dull pleasure.

He entered you in one, agonizingly slow thrust. Giving you time to adjust to his size, he stayed still, peppering your neck and shoulders with kiss after kiss.

“Dean…move.” You growled, digging your nails into his shoulder blades.

Dean’s muscles tensed, stopping in the middle of planting a wet kiss just under your jawline. He lifted his head, looking you square in the eye.

“Yes ma'am.” He purred with a sly grin.

Lifting his hips and thrusting back into you, he created a friction so intense you knew it would consume you. His cock hit your sweet spot every time, causing the pressure in your core to build with every thrust. You’re nails dragged down Dean’s back, leaving long red marks and causing Dean to hiss at the pleasurable sting.

His eyes never left your face. He watched the way your eyes closed from the pleasure… the shape of your beautiful mouth as you moaned his name… the sweat that rolled down your cleavage. He wanted this image of you burned into his mind.

“Fuck, Dean. Don’t stop. Faster.. please go faster.”

He quickened his thrusts, setting a pace that could put any pornstar to shame. Your orgasm started slow, until Dean stood up, changing his angle and hitting spots you didn’t know you had.

Your second orgasm was nothing like the first. It hit you like a freight train. Your legs shook so violently you were sure you were having a seizure. The heat in your core expanded, spreading to every part of your body. Dean’s pace never slowed and the pressure never died. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure erupted. You felt yourself release like a waterfall all over Dean’s cock. Squirting wasn’t something you’d done before and your eyes went wide with surprise.

The look on Dean’s face was pure ecstasy. Being covered in your juices pushed him over the edge, his thrusts stuttered and he spilled into you. His release was fast but powerful. Three hard thrusts and he was finished. He collapsed on top of you. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathings.

You stayed locked in each other’s arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling sore… everywhere. The dull pain reminded you of last nights activities and you smiled.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes and saw Dean staring at you, a gentle smile on his lips. Happiness radiated from him and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Morning.”

“You feeling ok?”

“I’m a little sore… but I’m not complaining.” You both laughed. “Last night was…” your voice trailed off, no words were good enough to describe the events that took place.

“Yea it was.” He grinned. “Starting to think I should get you jealous more often..”

Smacking his arm, you gave him the best disapproving look you could muster, but you were too happy to be irritated.

You sat in a comfortable silence, staring into Dean’s eyes and thanking whichever gods were listening. No matter what happens, you were his. And, finally, Dean Winchester was yours.

5

Scale, hierarchy, impacts

From image 1 to 5 we have 5 different scales of different impacts, notice how the shapes of the smoke are all different from small to huge, this is very important in order to communicate the force of the impact.

We have a very small transparent round shaped smoke for image 2 vs a very dense with shadows and lots of little details for image 5. If you want to animate a very big explosion you have to keep in mind that the bigger it gets the more details you have to draw (debris, fire, lights and shadows, etc.), also, massive smokes are more dense and move slower. We are always trying to avoid these huge epic smokes because they are very time consuming, so it’s better to think about ways of showing big scale without actually having to draw it all. For example on image 5 the camera is following julith for a couple of seconds so all the big smokes on the bottom doesn’t need to be animated because they are out of the frame. 

this question was asked by @maginpanic:

can you advice how to handle epic scenes? (Like tsunami flooding the city, or village in fire).

If you want to communicate effectively that something is huge you need to: draw tons of details, they have to move slow, you need something small so the audience can compare and tell how big is the thing you are showing. And I recommend that the scenes don’t last too long, unless you want to spend all your life in front of the computer drawing tiny slow lines… We actually avoid this scenes at Ankama because we are a small team, so I can’t really tell you anything more useful.

Sorry about the late response! 

anonymous asked:

Hey please can I request an Eggsy imagine where you are a kinda new recruit and you two start dating but its against the rules so you have to make sure no-one finds out but maybe Eggsy is being like rlly cheeky and pushing the boundaries at work. Could you maybe like incorporate some smut into it as well? thanks so much if you decide to do this - it would be much appreciated xxxxxxxxxxxx

[Hi! Okay, I tried to do all the things you wanted lol ;.; I am not super familiar with writing smut so hopefully this does it for you!!??! XD <3 I think it’s pretty sexy but what do I know!! 

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut, cursing.

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You knew this was a bad idea from the very beginning. You knew you’d either get caught or fired… likely both now that you thought about it. How could you not? It was against the rules to get involved with a coworker everywhere else you’d worked, why would a secret service of agents be any different?

The answer is they weren’t and Kingsman’s sets of rules for this sort of thing were pretty standard: basically it was off fucking limits.

They couldn’t have their agents sleeping around and letting feelings interfere with a mission. It was dangerous, and not just for the two involved: for everyone. And really it did make sense to you. Before this— before Eggsy you should say, you wouldn’t have even considered it.

Except there was something about him that seemed to make you forget the rules… Or maybe you weren’t forgetting them so much as you just didn’t care about following them anymore. Truthfully it was hard to focus on much with the way he said your name and that wink he always sent your way. And that smile? Let’s just say that smile alone was enough to evoke a certain… emotion.

You know the one that tingles everything down really low, like everything is set to vibrate? Yeah, that’s the one.

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fight me || park jimin

summary: park jimin has become infatuated with his patient. 

based off this

nurse!jimin, stupidcollegestudentwhoistoostressedtoeatandisalsoeverysingleoneofusreadersoutthere!reader

fight me? 

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Arya and Lyanna Stark

I always found interesting the parallels Martin draws between characters. When it comes to Arya and Lyanna Stark their similarities run to an extreme, and it’s impossible to miss them.  It’s almost like Arya is Lyanna’s clone, the Lyanna of the next generation. And since Arya is the main character and probably the one the author conceived first, I’m betting that the whole Lyanna’s characterization was based on her.

Unfortunately, after the latest game of thrones episode aired I’ve noticed lot of people mixing up Lyanna’s characterization. That comes from her wedding scene in which she’s dressed in a delicate dress and she’s smiling and so she has given the impression that she was actually lady-like to some people. I beg to disagree. Every woman would wear a beautiful dress on her wedding day and she would be smiling (well,unless she actually disliked the groom). 

In any case, since I don’t like to see Lyanna’s characterization being butchered and her parallels with Arya being ignored, I decided to write that meta. So, let’s begin!

1. APPEARANCE

Both Lyanna and Arya share the traditional Stark look. That’s not something exclusive to them as Jon, Ned and his brothers all also have the Stark look. However, Ned Stark makes a direct comparison between Arya and Lyanna’s looks, which means that their similarities in look run deeper than just the typical family look:

[…]You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.
"Lyanna was beautiful,” Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya.

Later on, Bran Stark sees a vision of Lyanna and Benjen as children and mistakes his aunt for his sister. He has to look at the boy on his vision to realize that the girl isn’t actually Arya (because if she was, then the boy would have to be him).

Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn’t be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him[..].


2. WOLF BLOOD

According to Old Nan all the Starks have wolf blood but it is stronger in some than in others. It’s interesting that among all the Starks we know only Brandon, Lyanna and Arya are linked to the wolf blood in text.

“Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. ‘The Wolf Blood’ my father would call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave[..]


3. PERSONAL TRAITS 

Everything we know about Lyanna’s personal traits, are characteristics that Arya also possess. I already mentioned the wildness of them in the paragraph above. Another trait they have in common is their eagerness to hold a sword and practice with it.

[..]Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it[..]

I didn’t pick a specific quote about Arya and her relationship with swords because anyone who has read even one asoiaf book or watched one got episode knows that Arya carries a sword.

Moving on, both of them are characterized willful. What it makes the parallel more powerful is that in both cases Ned is the one who describes that trait of them.

About Lyanna:

“She was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.”

About Arya:

[…]This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience[…]

Furthermore both of them dislike teasing and they have a strong reaction to it.

Lyanna:

The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head.

Arya:

Behind them, Gendry groaned. “Lords and ladies,” he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. “Ow,” he said. “That hurt.”


4. BRAVE PROTECTORS:

Another thing they have in common is that both are brave and they won’t hesitate to interfere when they see an unjust act.  Both of them jumped in to protect a weaker person from their bullies. In Lyanna’s case it was Howland Reed and in Arya’s case was her friend Mycah. I think it is interesting to note that in both cases, the boys they defended were from a lower class than the girls. 

Lyanna:

‘'That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf.“
"A wolf on four legs, or two?" 
"Two,” said Meera. “The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all[…]

Arya:

[…] A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah’s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy’s cheek.
“Stop it!” Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick.
Sansa was afraid. “Arya, you stay out of this.”
“I won’t hurt him … much,” Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher’s boy.
Arya went for him.
Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince’s head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa’s horrified eyes […]


5. HORSE RIDING

Harwin, whose father was master at horse in Winterfell and therefore knew both girls well, compared Arya’s horse riding skills to Lyanna’s.

"You ride like a northman, milady,” Harwin said when he’d drawn them to a halt. “Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna. But my father was master of horse, remember." 


6. FOND OF FLOWERS

Two girls who enjoy doing “boyish” things actually like flowers? Well, yes they do! What I like about Martin’s characters is that they aren’t one dimensional (unlike the characters of a certain tv series..) and don’t fall on stereotypes. 

Both Lyanna and Arya are fond of flowers.

[..]Ned could recall none of it. "I bring her flowers when I can,” he said. “Lyanna was … fond of flowers." 

None of which stopped Arya, of course. One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. 


7. ENJOY SONGS

Many of you will disagree with me on this, because Arya has said that “ singing is stupid” but in my opinion people don’t always say what they mean. Let me elaborate on this.  

First of all, I think it’s necessary to look at Arya’s quote:

"Singing is stupid,” said Arya. “Singing makes noise. We heard you a long way off. We could have killed you.”

As you can see, Arya  declared singing stupid but she also went on to explain why she thought so. According to her singing makes noise and noise is dangerous for someone who wants to remain unnoticeable on the road.

In my opinion, her explanation make it seem like she didn’t dislike singing in general, just that she thought it was a foolish thing to do in their current situation.

Besides, finding singing “stupid” didn’t stop her from enjoying Tom and Hot Pie’s song later on:

Tom and Hot Pie resumed their song on the other side of the brook, with the duck hanging from Lem’s belt beneath his yellow cloak. Somehow the singing made the miles seem shorter.

As for Lyanna, she enjoyed Rhaegar’s song:

The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head


I think that I demonstrated why Lyanna and Arya are so similar with all these reasons I provided. It’s interesting that not even Lyanna’s son, Jon, shares so many similarities with her -and he’s certainly not compared to her like Arya is. I’d go as far as to say, that no other asoiaf characters share so many and obvious parallels as Lyanna and Arya Stark.

medium.com
Why Abortion Rights Activists are Fighting for Net Neutrality
Imagine a world where a woman searches the internet but can find no information on how to access an abortion. Imagine searching the…
By NARAL

A world without net neutrality is a world where internet service providers can censor our communications or create “fast” lanes for sites they would rather you visit. As a result, alternative and independent voices from women, communities of color, and LGBTQ+ folks could be relegated to the “slow” line.

Monday: Coffee Shop AU

2017 Sterek Coffee Shop AUs

★=Fics that could use more kudos, comments, and appreciation.

THIS RUINED ME!!! ENDLESS SOBBING!: 

Celestial Navigation by @alocalband (1/1 | 12,492 | Mature)

A year after the death of his sister, while struggling with social anxiety and writer’s block, Derek decides to start over somewhere new.

D’aaaaaaawwwwww: 

Soft Derek, Warm Stiles, No One is a Little Ball of Fur by @tiedtogetherwithadagger (1/1 | 3,639 | Gen.)

Stiles is wiping down the counters and humming California Gurls to himself when the bell above the door chimes and Derek walks in. The next notes of the song get stuck in his throat and he freezes. Stiles shouldn’t be surprised, really. The rest of the pack have already been by to visit him, even Jackson. Of course, Scott was the only person Stiles ended up giving a free drink to, much to their disappointment.

Derek swaggers up to the counter Stiles is stationed behind, because that’s the only way Derek apparently knows how to walk. He’s wearing a maroon knitted sweater today that looks unfairly cozy. Stiles slaps his own hand down from reaching out and touching the fabric because that would be weird. Although slapping yourself might be weirder. Oh well.

Awkwarddd but so cute!: 

★today could have been worse by tash_xo (1/1 | 1,138 | Teen)

Stiles is having a bad day. Super bad. He broke his alarm, was late to work, and managed to have coffee spilled on him twice in one day. To make matters worse, the handsome guy who play lacrosse with his best friend happens to watch it happen the second time. Why can’t Stiles catch a break?

LOL!: 

★dat ass by PrincezzShell101 (1/1 | 490 | Gen.)

Stiles is standing in the annoyingly ever-so-slow line at the coffee shop when a literal Greek Adonis walks in and takes the spot in line directly behind him. Stiles lets out a quiet, strangled sound when Hello-My-Name-Is-Sex-God nods at him in silent acknowledgement. He ends up spinning back around on his heels to face the person in front of him, breathing intensely.

Remain calm, he tells himself. It’s not like he’s standing right behind you. Not at all. Nope.

Sweet, sweet, sweet:

Oops by Little Spoon / @always-the-little-spoon (1/1 | 2,852 | Teen)

Derek was the one that brought Stiles dinner when he knew Stiles had forgotten, and Derek was the one that massaged Stiles’ feet when he was stressed. When they watched a movie, Stiles snuggled up against him, and Stiles trusted Derek enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. When Stiles woke up in the middle of the night screaming, Derek was the one that held until he fell back asleep, and in return, Stiles would help him count his fingers when Derek wasn’t sure if he was awake.

Derek and Stiles were just friends. Oops?

Left me with the biggest smile: 

★Won’t You Macchiato My Day? by laughing_unintentionally (1/1 | 984 | Gen.)

Derek writes his best work inside of coffee shops, and he just found his new muse.

Yummy!: 

The One With the Food Thing by mikkimouse / @mad-madam-m (1/1 | 574 | Gen.)

Someone shook his shoulder. “Hey, man, you okay?”

Derek jerked his head up to see Sexy Barista–better known as Stiles–standing next to him and looking adorably concerned.

The In-Between Part 2

Summary:  This is a college!AU where Sam and the reader attend the same university.

Characters: AU!Sam x Reader, AU!Dean x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (oral, male and female receiving, fingering, unprotected sex), Angst, swearing

Word Count:  2622

A/N:  This is Part Two, you can find Part One HERE.  I loved going back to college so much that this became a series.  There will be at least three parts.

Thank you to my lovely pal @wheresthekillswitch for being my MastaBeta on this one.

Italics are the end of Part One.

Gif is from Google Search, credit goes to the owner. 

 

 

Dean whips the car around in a u-turn, parking by the sidewalk where you’re standing.  His control of the car is unbelievably sexy.  He shuts off the engine and climbs out, the car doors squeaking as he does.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, pulling you into a hug.

“You too.  What’re you doing here?”

“I live here,” he says a little sheepishly.  “I moved here when Sammy got accepted.  I work in a shop downtown.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“What about you, why are you here?”

“I live here too,” you laugh.  “I bought my place,” you gesture down the street, “when I got accepted.”

“No family?” he asks.

“No, just me.”

“Yeah, it’s just me and Sam.”

The conversation lulls for a moment.

“Well, I was just heading home; you wanna join me for a beer and maybe some food.”

“Yeah, I’m off work.  Lead the way.”

The two of you walk towards your house in an easy silence.

—-

“So when’d you get back into town?” Dean asks, leaning back against the couch.

“A few weeks ago,” you say, setting your beer on the coffee table.  You plop down next to him.  “It still feels weird being back and only hearing English.” You laugh.  “But the timing couldn’t have worked better, I needed to get away and clear my head,” you say a little more seriously.

“I’d say going to the other side of the planet is definitely getting away.”  He chuckles.  “But you’re ok now?”

“Yeah.  I mean, do I wish things had gone differently? Absolutely, but what’s done is done.  The only way through is forward, right?”

“That’s an extremely well adjusted approach.”

“Six months can give you some perspective, I guess.”

“Well, if you ask me, he was an idiot.  Don’t get me wrong, Jess is a nice girl, but you…”

He gestures at you and you can’t suppress the blush that floods your cheeks.  You look down trying to get your face under control when Dean gently slips his finger under your chin, tilting your face up.  His green eyes searching and before you can think, speak or even breathe his mouth is on yours.  Your eyelids flutter shut as his full lips press against your lips, you part them deepening the kiss.

Instinctively you scoot closer to one another.  Wrapping your arms around his neck you run your fingers up and through his hair.  He growls into our mouth, playfully biting your lower lip.  His strong hands grip your hips and he pulls you over him, your legs nestled on either side.  You run your hands down his firm chest, skimming your hand under the hem of his shirt.  Dean breaks the kiss long enough to pull his shirt and yours over your heads.  A sound you can’t quite describe escapes his lips as he takes in your lace bra.

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